


Woulda

by DilynAliceBlake



Series: Jefferson/Hamilton [5]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: M/M, Regret, Soulmate AU, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-24 15:04:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7512812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DilynAliceBlake/pseuds/DilynAliceBlake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Didn't I mention a kissing booth?</p><p>...Surely, surely nothing could be worse.  The Schuyler sisters had all already taken their turn, Mulligan and Madison didn't seem interested, so who did that leave, really?<br/>"Washington, Sir!"...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**a/n: this one isn't finished, i'm so sorrrrryyyyyyy ahhhh**

 

Thomas Jefferson, at the nervous age of nine, made the decision that his soulmate would be his first kiss.  This steadfast determination came on the tail end of a little girl at recess trying to kiss one of the soccer boys on the cheek, and being rejected because she had kissed two other boys in the past month, and he didn't want a girlfriend who went around kissing everyone.  It was the height of fourth grade drama, and it terrified young Thomas.  What if his soulmate wouldn't want him if he kissed too many other people?  He couldn't risk it.  So Thomas made a juvenile promise to himself, and with the help of his stubborn will and equally stubborn anxiety, managed to keep it all the way into his adult life.  Keeping a promise like that in Paris had been, rest assured, no easy task.  
Keeping that promise here and now was a million times harder.  
Somehow Alexander had talked his wife into letting him run a kissing booth, and he was charging $5 per minute.  Who the hell opened a kissing booth and charged _per minute_?  
Jefferson supposes he must like being run through an emotional wringer, because he hasn't taken his eyes off of Hamilton's activity for the entire Halloween shindig.  He thought that watching him kiss Burr was the worst thing he could experience, until he had to watch Hamilton kiss Laurens.  Then Lafayette slapped down a ten, and two minutes exactly later Alexander was blinking dazedly and laughing a little dopey giggle that was not at all adorable.  Surely, _surely_ nothing could be worse.  The Schuyler sisters had all already taken their turn, Mulligan and Madison didn't seem interested, so who did that leave, really?  
"Washington, Sir!"  
"Hamilton, Son.  I see you're making the most of today's event."  
"Would you like to participate?  The money is for a good cause!"  
"I can't imagine a charity that would be worth sacrificing that much of my dignity," Washington jokes, and Thomas thinks that's the end of it.  
"It's for a new coffee machine in our floor's staff room," Hamilton explains excitedly.  "I was thinking of getting one that makes one cup a minute, so we don't have to wait for the whole pot to brew when it runs out.  It'd also make cappuccinos, and I guess tea if that's your thing-"  
Hamilton is cut off, because Washington is pressing their mouths together and doing _something_ with his tongue that's got Alexander's knees giving out as he falls forward onto the booth's counter, making a small high-pitched noise that has Jefferson's heart jumping in his ribs.  
"Time!" Peggy calls cheerfully, and Washington pulls back, not even looking ruffled.  He slips a five into the jar, and it takes another minute for Hamilton to regain his voice for a quip.  
"I think," Alexander says, "That maybe _I_ should be paying _you_."  
Madison comes up and gives a quick, awkward peck to Hamilton's lips, adding a five to the jar.  
"I'm just in it for the coffee machine."  
"Same, Bruh," Hercules says, and gives a kiss impressive for how dirty it manages to be in the mere ten seconds it lasts, before adding his own bill to the collection.  
Jefferson's resolve crumbles, and he stomps up to the booth, slapping a hundred down on the counter loudly.  
"You just _carry_ hundreds around with you?" Peggy asks incredulously.  
"We'll be in my office" he snaps, and drags Alexander out of the building's lobby to the elevators.  
"What the _hell_ Jefferson?  It's a party, lighten up a little!"  
"What?"  
"You can't just drag me away from all the fun to lecture me about appropriate conduct when we're not even at work! I won't sit here and take that, even if you do throw money around like- That's... not what you were doing, is it?"  
"Actually, your plan makes more sense.  I don't know what the hell I was thinking."  
"No no no no no, I wanna know what you were paying that money for, if it wasn't to talk."  
Hamilton has to look very closely to see Jefferson's blush, but it's undeniably there.  
"You know, I think we should get back to the party," Jefferson decides.  
The elevator dings an interruption.  
"What, and make a liar outta you?  No, by all means, let's continue to your office.  Might as well make sure you get your money's worth."  Alexander winks, and Thomas feels like he's lost something.  Probably the battle with himself, he admits, and follows the Nevisian into his own office.


	2. Chapter 2

"You know," Peggy muses, "It's been half an hour.  Do you think we should go save Alex from Jefferson's evil clutches yet?"  
"They'll be fine," Eliza says, and picks up another beanbag to throw.  
James Madison is manning the beanbag toss, and he gets a strange look on his face.  
"You know, you seem surprisingly okay with people paying to make out with Hamilton," he tells Eliza.  
"Oh, it's not entirely altruistic.  The look on his face when Washington got done with him was well worth any jealousy I might have felt."  
"Not to mention," Peggy adds, "I'm sure it's an ego boost to have people lining up to kiss your husband."  
"Truer words were never spoken," Eliza nods, and lines up her next shot perfectly.  
"Look," Madison levels, "I'm not saying that I'm jealous, because _no_ , but is it really fair to let Thomas have more time than he paid for?"  
Peggy's throw knocks Eliza's out of the circle.  
"Are you suggesting we charge him extra because his lecture ran over?" She seems maniacally pleased with such a suggestion.  
Madison stares at both of them disbelievingly.  
"You think he dragged Hamilton away from the party after staring at him kissing people all evening to _lecture_ him?"  
"I...Yes?" Eliza ventures.  
"They hate each other," Peggy objects.  
"You've never seen them debate, have you?" James queries.  If they had been in the room when it happened, neither would have _any_ doubts.  
"No," they respond in unison, and Madison blinks at them, wondering how they could work in the same building and not have once watched the spectacle.  
"I'm just saying that, maybe you should consider the fact that what they have is just very, _very_ strong sexual tension."  
Peggy crinkles her nose at the prospect, and Eliza attempts to refute it.  
"Listen, I live with Alexander.  I've _heard_ what he has to say about Jefferson, and trust me, it's _nowhere_ approaching the realm of-"  
"Did you notice that after their more intellectual arguments, Hamilton always leaves to have a cigarette?"  
"That's impossible.  Alex quit smoking, he only ever lights up after a round of _really_ good se..."  
"Oh my _god_!" Peggy laughs.  
Eliza whirls to go and find her husband, Peggy yelling after her.  
"Leaving means forfeit!  I win!"  
Eliza doesn't care, and Peggy pouts at the hollow victory.  Gilbert approaches to challenge her winning streak, and Peggy gives a vicious grin.  
"You're going _down_ , Frenchman!"  She takes aim.  
"No one will be, how you say, _going down on_ anyone," Lafayette asserts, "But I would be happy to play with you," he reassures, giving a dashing smile.  
Peggy's shot misses spectacularly, and Lafayette laughs before tossing his own beanbag, scoring full points.


	3. Chapter 3

"Tell me I'm not misreading this," Alex says, when he's pressed chest to chest with Jefferson and the man makes no move to kiss him.  Thomas continues staring helplessly, looking overwhelmed by proximity alone.  
"I really want to kiss you," he admits softly.  
"But not enough to do it?" Hamilton ventures.  
"More I've ever wanted anything, I think.  More than I wanted that transfer to Hawaii last summer.  I still don't know how anyone thought Adams was more qualified for that position," he sidetracks.  
Alexander ducks his head down bashfully.  
"...I wanted you to stay here..."  
"You...Deliberately sabotaged the advancement of my career...For no other reason than that you would miss me if I went away?"  
"Also to get rid of Adams!" Hamilton tries to save, but he's avoiding Thomas' eyes tellingly.  
"That's...Oddly sweet of you, actually.  In a really out of line, over the top way."  
Alex smiles up at him shyly, and it's enough to bolster Jefferson's courage.  He ducks down and gives away his first kiss.  It's nervous, and awkward, and he doesn't regret it in the least.  
Hamilton kisses him back sweetly, slowly, reading exactly what he needs telegraphed in every hesitant movement.  The pull apart gently, neither of them gasping for breath, but both warm and giddy.  
"That wasn't what I was expecting," Alexander says, and insecurity rears it's head.  
"Sorry, I haven't really...Done this before."  
Hamilton looks surprised, but quickly reassures him.  
"No, no.  It was perfect.  Just in a feelings sort of way, instead of a lust sort of way."  
Guilt eats at him, burning beneath the collar of his shirt, and Thomas can't kiss Alex again without telling him.  And he _really_ wants to kiss Alex again.  
"I like you, Hamilton-"  
"Well, _duh_ ," Alexander teases, hugging him closer.  
" _But_ , this is really complicated.  You have a wife, and I have..."  
For a few seconds, worry creeps through Alexander.  
 _'You have what_?' he thinks.  _'A girlfriend?  A boyfriend?  A sugar baby?_ '  
"A Soulmark," Thomas says, and a rush of relieved giddiness compels Hamilton to stand up on tiptoe and whisper into Jefferson's ear.  
" _Thomas_ ," he breathes, "That was a real nice declaration."  
Confusion covers the Southerner's face as he gazes down at Alex, so Hamilton does what he does best and keeps talking.  
"Welcome to the present, care to join us in reality?  There's no reason for us to step in and save a crumbling company."  
"The collapse of our parent company?" Thomas recalls aloud, and then the entire thing hits him at once.  
"Wait, that was a..." he kicks himself mentally.  "It was sarcasm!"  So much searching among those who had said the statement genuinely, and he'd overlooked the first person he'd heard it from.  
"Well," Hamilton elaborates, "Only a little.  Once I saw the piece up on the homepage of our website, I read everything I could find by the author.  That was admittedly one of your better works."  
"You've read _all_ my works?"  
"I mean..."  
 _'How to explain?_ ' he wonders, before boldness outruns unsurety and he guides Thomas' hand to the words along his hip.  
"Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness; we fought for these ideals-"  
"We shouldn't settle for less," Jefferson completes.  
Their hearts beat in synch, and the world is crisp and clear.  Alexander's smile is as tempting as his pouts.  
"We should talk more about this, but," Thomas admits, "I mostly just want to kiss you again."  
Hamilton eyes the pretentious bronze analog on the wall, with it's obnoxious roman numerals.  
"Go ahead," he agrees easily.  "We've got time."


	4. Chapter 4

**a/n: this chapter is dedicated to Nocturnal_Leanings for leaving so many wonderful reviews**

 

Eliza thinks, with visions of possible indecencies swirling through her mind, that she is prepared for the worst.  There is nothing she could possibly walk in on that would break her.  She'll be mad, and they'll yell, then after the empty threat of divorce and a few years of couples therapy, (as well as copious apologies from Alexander for cheating), all will be well.

  
She's his true love, and no office fling can take that from her.

  
(No mere office fling is going to.)

  
She bursts into the room, and they're both fully clothed and facing her.  For a moment, Eliza is relieved.  Then she sees how they sit on the wooden desk, Alexander tucked happily into Jefferson's side, and a new inkling of worry is born.

  
Alex doesn't look guilty, upon seeing her.  He doesn't look ravished, or recently fucked, or even kissed out.

  
He looks like he's just met the man who hung the moon, and was told it was done just for him.

  
"Eliza," he greets from where he's snuggled shamelessly, "Tell this man that summers are my most productive work season."

  
"Eliza," Jefferson disputes, "Tell this man that summers are a time for _relaxing_."

  
"You know I don't relax," Hamilton says, as if he spends every day with his head tucked comfortably into the crook of Thomas Jefferson's shoulder while the man strokes his hip with an arm casually wrapped around him.

  
"Don't you think maybe you should?"

  
"No way!"

  
Eliza is about to explain that there's no force on this entire _planet_ that could get her husband to slow down, and also, please kindly _let go_ of him, when Jefferson does the unimaginable.

  
He lifts Alexander from next to him and slides the slighter man into _his lap_ to cradle him.  Rage is starting to color Eliza's vision red, when Thomas uses one hand to tilt Alexander's chin up gently.  They stare into each others eyes so intensely that she feels like _she's_ intruding where _she_ shouldn't be.

  
"Please?  For me?" Jefferson begs softly, and this entire situation is absolutely preposterous!

  
"I suppose..." Alex concedes reluctantly, "That I could refrain myself to regular work hours...And emails."

  
 _'What?_ ' Eliza boggles, stunned.  Then Thomas pouts his bottom lip out and wobbles it in way that's disgustingly juvenile.  The Schuyler wants to mock him for it.

  
"Twice a day?" Alexander ventures, and it occurs to Eliza that her husband is asking this practical stranger for permission to go into his email outside of work.

  
"Why don't you ask Eliza what she thinks," Jefferson encourages gently, and only then does she merit their full attention.

  
"Twice a day is reasonable, right?" Alex checks, and it's too much.

  
" ** _Who the hell do you think you are?_ "** Eliza demands loudly, and instead of answering her, Jefferson looks down at Alexander again.

  
She shrieks in understandable frustration and throws one of her heels at his smugly entitled face.


	5. Chapter 5

She has never been so angry before in her _life_ , and a part of her is still surprised when, instead of rushing over to ask what has her so upset, Alexander is instantly fawning over what Eliza can only hope will be a sizable black eye.  She is bean bag toss _champion_ , dammit, no matter what Peggy said about stupid forfeits.

  
"Thomas!  Are you all right?  What the hell, Eliza?  He didn't do anything!  Why did you-" Alexander's rant cuts off when Jefferson slides his fingers through Hamilton's hair.  Everything about the move is so infuriatingly _natural_ ; Eliza is reaching for her other shoe almost before she knows it.

  
"Alexander, calm down.  It's alright.  I wish you would've told me your wife wasn't prepared for this, though; it might've saved me a black eye."

  
"Sorry," Hamilton says, seeming genuinely repentant for keeping Thomas Jefferson out of the loop, instead of apologizing to _her_ for... Well, for whatever the fuck it is she's watching.

  
Eliza throws her next shoe at the back of Alexander's head, and takes a moment to be pleased with the **_thunk_ ** it makes on contact.

  
Any satisfaction she feels is short lived, because the glare Jefferson gives her is genuinely terrifying.

  
"That's quite enough of _that_ ," he commands boldly, as if she hasn't run out of shoes to throw anyway.

  
She kind of wishes she hadn't.


	6. Chapter 6

Dracula has just risen from his crypt to ask what happened to the Transylvania Twist, when the lull in the music is accompanied by screams and thumps from _upstairs_ instead of the track's background.

 

Washington has been expecting something to happen for the past ten minutes.  It's been much too quiet for a function with spiked cider.

 

(Washington usually encouraged Mulligan to spike the drinks at events like this, because Burr was too polite to refuse when George offered him a cup, too naïve to believe that his boss is complicit in such a thing, and too hilarious a drunk for anyone to pass up the opportunity to get him there.  A tipsy Burr, for instance, just today proved himself perfectly willing to make out with Alexander Hamilton.)

 

Washington takes stock of who's present.  Hamilton and Jefferson have been upstairs since Jefferson coughed up a flat hundred to get Hamilton to himself for twenty minutes.  George has been very pointedly not thinking about that, ever since a fourth of that time had gone by without him catching wind of a yelling argument through the vents.  
Eliza, however, is now also conspicuously missing, and Laurens is accepting money from Mulligan with a smug smile.

  
Thomas must have moved nearer to the vent somehow since the Schuyler sister's arrival, which Washington is _still not thinking about_ , because his voice can suddenly be made out too.  Whatever he's saying, he sounds angry enough that Washington sighs and makes his way towards the staircase.

  
He'll probably have to mediate, but he's going to give them as much time as possible to be sure they're decent before walking in on that drama.


	7. Chapter 7

When Washington walks in to Thomas Jefferson's office, it's to see Alexander puffed up and bristling, snapping at _Eliza_.  He's standing in front of Thomas as if the man needs his protecting, which strikes George as odd right up until the moment he spots the bruise swelling at Jefferson's eye.

  
A casual glance around shows that the Schuyler sister's shoes are conspicuously missing, and Washington winces in sympathy thinking of the heels she had been sporting.

  
"What is going _on_ in here?" he asks, just as Hamilton snarls, and reaches for one of the heels on the ground, undoubtedly to throw back.

  
He drops the shoe in surprise, and immediately takes two steps to the side, so that he's standing between Thomas and both of the other parties in the room.

  
That's... _interesting._

  
_'Unknown factor added to the room,_ ' he takes mental note, _'Hamilton moves to protect Jefferson, leaves Schuyler to fend for herself, instead of their usual united front._ '

  
Strategically, it's an unusual decision, and it indicates that some drastic change has taken place.  Whatever it is that happened to turn the world upside down, it didn't leave so much as a hickey or mussed hair on either of the men.  That doesn't stop Jefferson from watching Hamilton stand to defend him looking pleased as punch at the development.

  
Washington has only ever seen Jefferson look that possessive about the last pasta plate in the cafeteria, and it's a little disturbing to see that gaze directed at a person.  George is also concerned, because he's seen what Thomas is willing to do to fight for the lunch he wants, and can't imagine how far the Southerner would go for a _person_.

  
Hamilton may be willing to yell and scream and kick up a fuss.  He may be willing to start a physical fight, or file enough official complaints and reports to deadlock someone into a red tape standstill for _weeks_.  Jefferson, though, is the more insidious danger of the two.  He'll blackmail you with a smile, and go through with his threats while acting as friendly as your golf buddies.

  
You never know that you're on Thomas Jefferson's list until it's too late, and your entire life is being publically smashed to smithereens.  Washington is almost a little scared, thinking about those two suddenly working together amicably.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jefferson is smug and likes to pretend that he's all knowing

Thomas thought that Alexander's protectiveness was sort of cute, albeit misguided.  A shoe was not the most dangerous thing ever to be thrown at him.  Hamilton himself had once thrown his desk shredder at Jefferson's head.

Come to think of it, that had been the day Thomas had decided to combat his increasingly distracting attraction to the Nevisian by insinuating that he was terrible in bed.  Having to duck for fear of his life had been what kept him from egging Alexander to prove otherwise directly.

Hindsight was twenty-twenty; and, in hindsight, Thomas really should've expected Washington's entrance.  The man had a nose sharper than a bloodhound when it came to drama.  Alexander Hamilton about to throw a shoe at his wife in defence of his supposed mortal enemy?  Definitely counted.

"What is going _on_ in here?" Washington demands, and Alex drops the shoe to move to more thoroughly defend Thomas.

That...Is actually helpful, since Jefferson is not exactly on the General's holiday card list.  His golden protege, though?  Well, now that Hamilton has made his position, quite literally, clear, Thomas is less likely to be in for a verbal reaming.

"Baby," he says, and it's completely accidental, but it's too late to take it back.  "There's no need to be so worried.  I think we've _all_ had quite enough violence for today.  Come back over here?"

Elizabeth Schuyler snarls, and looks as if she is really considering lunging across the room to throttle Jefferson.

"Baby?  _Baby?_ Where do you get off, going around calling another person's spouse baby?"

Thomas has had quite enough of Eliza's entitlement towards _his_ soulmate, and possessiveness rears it's head to stake a claim.  A joke about getting off _here_ would be both tacky and untrue, so Jefferson goes with the next best option.

"You don't mind the pet names, do you Precious?" Thomas asks, and crows internally at the victory when Hamilton shifts his attention from the potential opponents across from them long enough to give Jefferson a timid smile.

"No," Alexander agrees, taking an automatic step back in Thomas' direction with eyes shining warmly.  Eliza looks scandalized.

" _Alexander_!" she attempts to object, and shameless as ever, Hamilton answers as if the world were not currently turned on it's head with revelations and holding it's breath for change.

"Yes, my dear Betsey?" he responds, guileless, and Thomas reflects fondly that his soulmate is not one for thinking before opening his mouth.

From the doorway, Washington struggles not to look amused, but Jefferson is wise enough to know that the man is enjoying every second of this seemingly nonsensical paradigm of reality that he's stepped into.

He's probably buzzed off that cider that he likes to pretend he isn't complicit in spiking.


End file.
